


389 Demons I've Killed

by Daerwyn



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Character Death, F/M, Post City of Heavenly Fire, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exile is nearly over when a certain group of visitors join her. She must start up training once more while fighting an old enemy of hers - Kilaria. Getting along with Jace's ex-girlfriend isn't apart of the plan, either. She can't break the Law again, or the consequences could mean her life, nor can she sit idly by while her child is in danger. The Law is hard, but it is the Law.</p><p>AU, set after City of Heavenly Fire (when that would take place, when released).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Mortal Instruments. The lovely Cassandra Clare owns the spectacular world. I own Sloane and Remy.

Isabelle Lightwood's slender forearm stretched out before her, clasping the younger girl's own. Her black eyes met the young girl's brown ones, looking as though she was going to either flee or hug the little girl, the same age as her, though Izzy was easily seen as the more mature mother of the two. Both only thirteen, their steels were presented to each other's arms, tracing the rune as they spoke as one:

 _Entreat me not to leave thee,  
Or to return from following after thee:  
Wither thou goest, I will go,_  
 _And where thou lodgest, I will lodge_.  
 _Thy people shall be my people,_  
 _And thy God my God._  
 _Where thou diest, will I die._  
 _And there will I be buried._  
 _The Angel do so to me, and more so,_  
 _if aught but death part thee and me._

The ring of fire, one each surrounding the two girl's legs, suddenly joined as the final word was spoken and the last inch of the rune in place. The brunette haired Sloane Monteverde hesitantly removed her steele from Izzy's skin. "Is it done, now?" she asked, confused. She expected somewhat of a big bang or... something, to show that it worked. She was given nothing of the sort, just the fire circles slowly snuffing out, its life gone with the magic fading.

Izzy seemed disappointed as well, "I think so."

"Oh," Sloane murmured. She slid her steele onto her gear belt and moved. " _Parabatai_ for life," Sloane promised her. "Nothing to tear us apart - even if we have to give up everything."

"No Mundies or Downworlders," Izzy agreed. She grew uncharacteristically withdrawn, finally murmuring. "None of those Valentine wannabes either... Agreed?"

"Agreed."

There was not much else Sloane could agree to. She hated them all, hated the mundanes that threatened their lives with their idiocracy. She hated the Downworlders that had lead to the death of her parents. And Valentine... She had seen how angry and withdrawn Jace was. She didn't particularly know the boy, but she knew the story he had come to the Institute with. Her own parents had been entangled in the web of Valentine, too. His grip on all of that generation's Shadowhunters had been tight. Only few were loyal to Raziel and the Law.

The Silent Brother, looking over the ritual, stepped foward. She almost thought she heard the movement, but didn't. It was Brother Zachariah, the only Silent Brother she ever truly could handle being around, and his appearance made him look human to her. His voice echoed in her mind and at Izzy's tightening jaw, she knew that his voice was in her head as well. _The ritual is complete. You two are truly parabatai. The celebration is awaiting you in the dining hall._

Sloane felt the red silk of her uniform - her ceremonial dress, as her mother once called it - glide across her skin as she took a step towards the Silent Brother. "Brother Zachariah, are you going to join us?"

_I must return to the Silent City._

Izzy nodded, still silent, and the Silent Brother swept from the room. "Come on, let's go."

Izzy's hands drifted to the ruby necklace around her throat and Sloane couldn't help but agree. Go, they must. The others were waiting.

* * *

"Look," Sloane's voice said quietly, presenting the picture to her _parabatai_. The black haired woman was sitting cross legged on Sloane's bed, the bedroom door open and Church resting just outside the door. Izzy's slim fingers grasped the glossy picture, staring at her mother, Maryse Lightwood, and Sloane's own, Isolde Monteverde. The two had been _parabatai_ in their own time, but Isolde was gone now, and Maryse was only one half of the person she had been.

"We won't make the same mistakes, Sloane," Izzy promised. Sloane had heard the stories from the other Institutes. While she lived in the Madrid Institute, following her parents death, she had heard of the treachery that had taken down her parents. Maryse and Isolde had a fight - a very big fight - in the middle of a mission. They had gone their separate ways, Isolde to check out the demon energy she was picking up from her Tracker, and Maryse to go back to the Institute, in a fury. The demon had been a bit larger than Isolde had thought. Without back up, Isolde had been killed. Maryse only knew her mistake when she felt the bond sever. She didn't blame Maryse, not at all. In fact, everyone knew of Isolde's temper. It was just the opposite of Sloane's own demeaner - which was light and calm.

"Promise me, Izzy," Sloane said quietly. "Promise me that we won't fight like they did."

Izzy promised, swearing on the Angel. "I remember when you first came to the Institute."

The memories came back to Sloane, as well. She had been living in the Madrid Institute since she was born, but it was different without her parents. She had been eight when her father was slain, the blood coating the cobblestone sidewalk in front of the Institute. She had seen them from the front window, watching him leave as she always did. The rusty smell of blood as she ran into the courtyard, seen the vampires standing above him, her father's blood dripping down the Downworlder's chin. She lived with her aunt, who took over the Institute, and remained there until she was twelve. At the age of twelve, her aunt had married and the man that took her position as leader was not one that Sloane liked. He cast her out one lone night, telling her if she ever returned, he would not hesitate to tell the Clave of her misfortunate encounter with a Fae Folk in the middle of one of her training exercises.

She had fled to New York, where her mother's _parabatai_ was with her children. She supposed she could have gone with the Lightwoods to New York, upon her parent's death, but she had found the comfort of her aunt to be familiar and something she didn't want to give up so easily. Her arrival at the New York Institute was a surprise. She hadn't had time to send a letter, but Maryse opened the door, staring down at the lost, confused little girl.

"Sloane?" she had asked, holding the door open for the girl to step through. Sloane did, taking in the New York Institute with apprehension. She had no bags of any of her clothes or anything. A small satchel hung from her shoulder with her parent's daggers, a single necklace that belonged to her mother, and a diary that had been her mothers. The girl stared up at Maryse Lightwood, remembering the woman's many excursions in the Madrid Institute with her mother. "What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

Sloane tried to remember the words in English to answer, but she wasn't very well practiced in the language... She didn't know many - Spanish, Latin, Greek, and French. Those had been essential at the Institute, but her mother had never finished training her in languages, and her Aunt hadn't spoken English. _"I needed to get away_ ," Sloane had answered in Spanish. _"I_ _hope you can have me here... if not, I was thinking the Toronto-_ "

"Nonsense," Maryse had interrupted. "There's plenty of room here. Is that all you have?" Sloane understood English, perfectly. Her mother had spoken it often to Maryse, to discuss things she didn't want Sloane to overhear. Sloane nodded, her dark brown hair, much like her mother's, tumbling into her face. "You can borrow some of Izzy's things... Come along... Are you sure you're alright?"

Sloane wasn't alright. Sitting in front of the gate for hours, her heart beating furiously, her eyes darting around her, she was in the same position her father had been before the vampire had torn his throat apart. She didn't know if she should enter the gates or not. She didn't want to. She didn't even know if Maryse was here anymore. She could very well not have been. If Maryse wasn't here... Her hands grasped the iron, electrum, and silver gate, pushing it open. On consecrated ground, she felt safer, at least. No vampires could get here, they couldn't touch her, feel her pulse -

The Institute door had opened and that was how she began to talk to Maryse. But her heart was still beating fast. There had been stories passed down for generations about creatures that could break into the wards. Creatures that weren't human, but something else entirely. Was this Institute truly safe? Her mother felt her Institute was safe. Her father had always been paranoid, though. Always taken extra precautions.

"No," Sloane had murmured. It was the one word in English she knew she had gotten right.

"You do?" Sloane asked Izzy, being brought back to the present. The girl was looking at her curiously, wondering where she was in her head. "It wasn't much of a memory... Your mom took some of your clothes, gave them to me, and I locked myself in my room for a few days."

"You came out eventually," Izzy shrugged lightly. She set the picture down, giving it back to Sloane. "Do you want to head down to dinner? Jace seems to be in a good mood today."

Jace, the boy that was always so cruel to her. "I... I'll be nice if he's nice to me."

"Good motto," Izzy approved. "Let's go."

* * *

The weapon room was dark. She loved to come here in the night to watch the New York City moonlight shine through the windows. It was so different than Spain. The snow fall was heavy in the winters, the summers scorching, and the seasons in between were miserable. She hated it here, but she had only been here a few months. She wanted to not judge the place that was her new home, but how could she not? Her small hands curved around the blade she was throwing into the wooden beam across the room. The blade embedded itself feet from its target - much higher than she intended - but it stuck, at least.

"Do you always miss your target? I don't think I've seen you hit it once." Sloane gasped, looking up at the rafters. Jace was sitting there, one of his legs dangling down as he propped himself up against the ceiling of the Institute. The large wooden beams could easily support him, but it still made her heart hammer.

"Were you spying on me?" she demanded. Her English was better - Maryse and Isabelle had been giving her extensive lessons, submerging her into English as much as they could. Translating everything she said in Spanish for her to repeat. "How dare you-?"

"You seem to come here a lot," Jace commented casually. She could see the glint of metal in his hands and realized that it was a dagger. He jumped suddenly from the rafters, landing with an almost grace inches from her. "Any particular reason why?"

"It clears my mind," Sloane answered. Her hair was knotted atop her head, her gear still in her room so she was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans.

"And what would you need to clear your mind about?" Jace asked. "You seem to be fond of puzzles."

"The mind is not a puzzle that should be worked through all in one sitting," Sloane answered. She walked away, heading towards the wooden target, and pulled the knife out, having to climb onto the window sill to high enough up. She jumped back down and turned to face Jace, but he was closer than before. She started back, the backs of her knees hitting the stone of the window ledge. "What are you doing? You _loco_." She spoke Spanglish. It was a better alternative than entirely Spanish. Jace always had sarcastic comments for it. She hated him the most out of all the people here. She loved Izzy, truly. They wouldn't be _parabatai_ otherwise, but she had a particular dislike for the arrogant blonde. 

"Try again."

She looked him over, shoving his shoulder from her as she walked past him. "I do not have to listen to you."

" _I do not have to listen to you_ ," he mocked in a heavy Spanish accent. "Ay, dios mio."

"I do not sound like that!" she spat. She stopped at the other end of the room and flung her arm. The dagger went flying into the air, brushing past the arrogant prick's ear, and landing solidly into the wood. The black 'x' marked for the target was hidden by the blade.

"If you were aiming for me, you missed," he stated. He propped himself up on the window ledge, his shadow from the moonlight stretching out to her toes.

"I wasn't aiming at you, _estupido,"_ she insisted. She felt a flush of anger taint her cheeks. "I came here for peace and quiet, not to be meddled by some fool! If you wish to bother someone, go find Alec. Or better yet, some Downworlder-"

"Can't I just sit here and watch you train?" She didn't want to admit that she was self-conscious about her training. Unless all of the kids in the Institute were practicing together, she wasn't going to. Especially not in front of him when all he would do was ridicule her form.

"No. Ay, ay, ay," she muttered the last bit to herself, turning and throwing up her hands. She reached for the door, but heard the wizzing. As she was about to turn and tell him to stop his unnecessary humming, a dagger whacked into the door. Her breath, for the second time that night, sucked sharply in. Her fingers were literally a millimeter from the blade and she felt the cool metal. It was not the one she had been throwing. Instead, it was one she recognized to be on Jace at all times. She pulled it from the wood with an angry jerk and let the blade fall to the ground. Her head glancing over her shoulder, she glanced at Jace. "You missed," she spat flatly.

She was satisfied to see his face break into surprise. As she started down the hall to get to her bedroom, she felt a hand grab her. She was quick, her eyes widening as she slapped the arm and pushed the attacker against the wall. A dagger from her arm sheath was pressed against his throat. Golden eyes smoldered in the darkness, staring down at her as she breathed heavily. He didn't say anything, didn't move a muscle. His blonde hair was in his eyes, staring at her with something akin to amazement.

"Sloane-" he said after a long moment of them staring at each other.

She pulled away, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry... I'm _so_ sorry _. P erdóname._"

"I shouldn't have grabbed you," he admitted into the silent hallway as she put her dagger back in place. It was her mother's... it was one of the only things she had left to remember the woman by. "You did react pretty well, though." She didn't say anything. She was staring at his shoes, made of black leather, and noticed for the first time that he was in full gear. How could she not have noticed? "Sloane?"

She looked up sharply at her name. He had never called her by her first name before. It was always Green Mountain. Always Little Green or Fire Mountain... Not Sloane.

" _Que_?" she bit out.

A twitch of his lips made her relax slightly. He was amused by something. "Are you okay?" The concern in his voice made her tense again. He wasn't acting like normal. He was being concerned for her... not arrogant or haughty. It was unnerving.

"I have lived my entire life feeling as though the Institute, no matter where I was, was safe. Eight years old, I learn that it is safe, but there have been times when Institutes have been ruined, not by Downworlders, but other things that no one will talk about. Shadowhunters that go mad with power... Creatures that are neither demon nor angel...," she stopped, her voice laced with pain. "Eight years old I learn that there are demons waiting outside of the gates, waiting for Shadowhunters to leave the Institute. I will never be okay... Never. Not when I am in danger of dying just for wanting to take a stroll through the city." She blinked and felt a blush creep up as tears gathered in her eyes. "I love this life. _Me encanta esta vida. _I will not give it up, but I will never forget the danger we have, even if we do not think we have it."  


There was silence as she finished and Sloane backed up a step. She turned and walked away, towards her bedroom. She knew, as did he, that there would be no more unwarranted hostility between them. That was the moment that changed their lives for the better.  


* * *

There was pain in her side as he landed a solid kick there. She gasped, stumbling, but her eyes blazed in fury as she leapt at him. Sloane landed a solid punch to his jaw, making him fall to the ground and spit out blood. "Sloane!" he complained.  


"Suck it up," she said sweetly.  


"Oh, I plan to have you su-"  


"Jace!" Sloane snapped, but he didn't have the decency to look sorry in the slightest. She tossed the dagger to the ground, rolling her eyes. "Ay, ay, ay," the fifteen year old girl muttered, her hands running through her fallen hair and pulling it back. "That's no way to talk to me, Mr. Wayland-"  


He smirked lightly, "Oh? Mrs. Wayland, then?"  


Sloane rolled her eyes yet again. "Don't make the mundane jealous, _mon chere_... Using that name won't get you anywhere."  


" _Oh,_ French," Jace remarked, his stance straightening and his eyes looking the girl over. "How dirty."  


Sloane flushed, turning away from him as she headed towards the door of the training room. "Clarissa will be arriving soon... I don't understand what you see in her."  


He picking himself off the ground, spitting out another mouthful of blood before bearing his neck to the Spanish girl. She used her stele to draw an _iratze_ and watched in 

fascination as his neck tensed under the metal tip. Her fingers retracted from his jaw and he spat out another mouthfull of blood before he straightened, rotating his shoulders. "By the Angel, you can _punch_ ," Jace muttered.  


She smiled sweetly, kissing his jaw, just above the fading _iratze_. Her fingers tugged at his blonde hair and she turned away. "You should have seen it coming, Wayland."  


The Institute bell rang, cutting of whatever Jace was going to say, and Sloane scowled. "And here comes the mundie." Jace suddenly grabbed her, a kiss pressing to her lips. She melted into it, not finding it in her to be angry with him anymore, or with the mundane that kept frequenting the Institute. "I'll be nice," she promised as she pulled away, breathing in the scent of metal and blood that seemed to surround him. "If you promise she won't be _estupida_."  


"I just want to know why she's possessed with the Sight, and what we can do to help her mom... Why does Valentine want her?"  


She swallowed, an unsettling feeling in her stomach always present whenever Clarissa was near Jace. "I don't want you to get hurt."  


"Why don't you, Izzy, and Remy go do something with yourselves? Alec and I will take Clary out-"  


" _Clarissa_ ," she corrected sharply.  


He winced, apoloigizing in a murmur, but she was already gone, the weapon's room door shutting behind her with a loud slam. He sighed, rubbing the sticky blood off of his chin and moving to head down to the foyer. He might as well make the most of it.  


* * *

Her dark eyes flashed as she tried to eep herself clam. She just needed to get inside. She could murder the mundane. She _would_ murder the mundane. Accords be damned. "Sloane-" Izzy tried to placate the young girl, but Sloane would have none of it.

"You!" she shouted, her mother's dagger suddenly pressing against Clarissa's throat. "How dare you, you- you - _puta!_ _Quien te crees que eres, perra? Debo matarte!"_  
  
"What sort of demon language-"

"It's Spanish," Alec said flatly. "Not demonic at all. It just sounds beautiful when someone isn't shouting in a murderous rage. Jace-"

"Izzy," Jace requested at the same time as Alec requesting himself.

"Doing my best here," Izzy spat. She was gripping Sloane's wrist, trying to pry the weapon loose. "Come on, Sloane. We don't want to kill the mundie.... No need to have mom clean up all that blood-"

"How dare you desire him!" Sloane growled in English, this time. "How dare you kill him in front of the entire Seelie Court. You were given one job, Clarisa. One job! Do not eat anything in the entire Downworld. What do you do? You drink the freaking faerie drink, right after we _warned_ you! You're an idiot! _Estupida, estupida, estupid_ -" Each word in Spanish and she beanged on the wall beside Clarissa's head. Izzy wretched her away and Sloane shook her off. "We are no longer friends, _Clarissa_."

The red-headed Fray girl was silent, her eyes wide with the entire encounter. Sloane felt no remorse for her threatment and glanced at Jace, seeing his still bruised lips from their kiss. It made her feel disgusted. "And you.... _Noli me tangere iterum._ " Jace nodded, understanding the warning in her voice.

She strode off, Izzy chasing after her. "Sloane-"

"I need to be near Remy," Sloane told her _parabatai_. "I'll calm down... I just... I want to kill her. I shouldn't have attacked her..."

"You're angry... You were in your rights."

Sloane threw her dark brown hair over her shoulder, shaking her head as tears formed in her ryes. "She's a stupid mundane... She should not be ... She shouldn't be allowed to go on missions with us. She can only get us killed."

Izzy didn't deny it. Sloane reached the smallest bedroom of the Institute and pushed it open. The bed was made, as always, and the crib in the corner was also empty. Her heart raced, even though she knew Maryse probably had the child. She couldn't hep the fear that she had grown up with appearing for the briefest moment. "I'd say the study."

" _Si._ " Sloane's agreement made, she shot down the hallway. Anything she could do to hold the baby, she'd do it.

* * *

His white blonde hair was nothing like her husband's. He had been hers for only a year now, and already they had fulfilled what they had set out to do. But there was danger. With Clarissa so close to Jace, her family wasn't safe anymore. They could be used for leverage. They could be used for something the man before her wanted. Clarissa's father.

"And you offer what?"

"Any information to help you," she answered quietly, her knees still on the ground. He was standing a bit away, but she could still smell him. Mint, but blood and death as well. evil was permeating off of him. She wanted to know what had caused him to resort to this mindless killing. This condemnation of Shadowhunters unlike himself. "I just want my family safe."

"Your accent is... what exactly?"

"Spanish," she answered. "My father was Ricardo Monteverde. My mother was Isolde Monteverde. I am married to Jace, your son. I ask, _signor_ , for your return of their safety for my service."

"I can guarantee their safety?"

She didn't know how to answer. "They are very close with your daughter, Clarissa. Being Jace's wife, I am your daughter-in-law. And our daughter is your grandchild."

"Grandchildren already. My, you two seem a bit young."

"There was no impending war when we married. We know we will die young," Sloane answered him carefully. "Remy is only a year old. We wanted to make the most of it."

"Obviously." Valentine approached her carefully. "Stand up." She did so, immediately shooting to her feet. "Would you swear your loyalty to me in return for them?"

"I would so swear."

"On the Angel?"

"If it were required."

Valentine smiled almost pleasantly. "And you'd spy on them."

"I would."

"And you'd tell me all I needed to know to find the Mortal Cup?"

She knew he could never find it. "Yes." She'd lie about it if she had to.

"And you swear you'd tell me only truthful information?"

"Of course," she answered. 

"Swear on the Angel."

And Sloane did. She didn't question much else as she thought only of her husband and daugher's safety. She had to protect them. She had to keep them safe from the maniac that was going to burn the world. He was their only danger, and his daughter was living with them. 

* * *

Her fingers curled around the edges of the Mortal Sword, desperate to prove she was telling the truth. She knew the consequences of her actions - that didn't mean she'd let them be chosen for her. Jace sat at the other end of the long table, near Maryse and Robert Lightwood. Her  _parabatai_ was absent, grieving over Max. She knew her brother's death was more important than her sentencing. In fact, she knew Izzy was furious with her, and hadn't expected her to come at all, anyway. And little Max...

"What were your intents in seeking out Valentine?"

"I wanted..." Her throat felt dry and she swallowed. "I wanted to protect my family. He promised they'd be protected. He said that Remy would be safe and-"

"And your reward to him?" the Inquisitor instructed.

She didn't want to say, of course, but she had no choice. The Mortal Sword was heavy, heavier than she was used to, and it made her wrists ache, but she had no choice but to keep her hands up. The tears in her eyes wouldn't help her case if she didn't look strong. She had to be strong. "I was to spy on the actions of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, Jace, Isabelle and Alec Lightwood, and Clarissa Morgenstern," she answered. "I was to tell him whatever they did."

"And what sort of information did you give?"

"Examples?" she questioned.

"Yes, if you can."

"I once told him that Izzy got a broken wrist in training because she was kicked off balance by her brother. I once told him that I had knocked Jace down in training because of-"

"Was any of the information you gave him valid?"

"Yes," she answered Maryse. "I gave him all information that I thought unimportant. How trainings were, who was training." She glanced at the Inquisitor. "I did not tell him what was happening outside of that. I did not tell him what leads the Institute was following, nor how close we were to finding the cup. In return, I gave the Institute gentle hints about whereabouts of certain things... inklings I had gathered from Valentine."

"How did you communicate with Valentine?"

"It took me months to find him, at first. I wasn't sure where to start, so I began with Pagborn and Blackthorn... They were easy to find, not very good at covering their tracks..." Sloane swallowed. "And once I found Valentine, I started to send letters in the middle of the night. I used the guise of training to walk the halls in the dark-"

"Mrs. Herondale-"

"Lightwood," Jace spoke up immediately. "I go by the name of Lightwood, not Herondale."

There was a moment of silence as the Inquisitor mulled this over. "Mrs. Lightwood," he ammended at last. "Do you understand the severity of your crime?"

She nodded, "I never meant... It wasn't supposed to go so far. I just wanted their safety-"

"The safety of your husband and daughter... Did you ever think they could protect themselves? If not your ability failed, then your husband?"

She knew it would be her last question. Her grip on the sword tightened until it was almost painful. "Yes. But I wasn't thinking when I swore loyalty to him. I swear on the Angel, it was a stupid decision... Not one I will ever do again. I was overcome with fear. I have seen families ripped apart... I just wanted to keep my family together."

"Those in favor of the heaviest sentence?" Twenty hands rose, nearly half the room. Sloane's breath sucked in sharply, but she was glad to see Robert and Maryse were not amongst them. Jace's hands stayed firmly in his lap. "Those in favor of a lighter sentence?" Twenty other hands, but not Jace's. She felt her heart stutter in fear. "In the event of a tie, the automatic ruling is that of the heavier sent-"

"No," she whispered, rendering the Inquisitor silent. The Mortal Sword was taken from Sloane's hand and she lunged forward, bumping into the wooden table. "Please, wait-" Her palms slammed onto the table, focusing all attention on her. "I did what all of you have once done. I've made a mistake, I realize that. Please- I-" An arm was grabbed, a Silent Brother, to take her away. She used her one free hand to dig her nails into the wood, to remain. "Wait, please. All of you have once made a decision. More than half of you were once in the Circle. This isn't the first time it's happened. We've all grown up with stories of-"

"Brother Enoch, please take Sloane Lightwood to the prison-"

"No, please!" she cried. "Please, I beg for a revote. I beg for reconsideration! I'm sixteen years old! I- I've known no other world! You can't strip me of my marks! I can't live like a mundane. I have no family in the mundane world, no money to my name, no home- The Institutes are the only home I know!" Sloane felt her heavy accent deepen with her hysteria. The Inquistor looked away. "Please-" she whispered, her fight leaving her as no one spoke.

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law," the Inquisitor said at last.

"The Law wasn't broken! Others have done the exact same as I did and their punishment wasn't as severe! I fought on Idris's side! I fought for us, against him!" she insisted. "I've fought against him... He broke his word! He almost killed Jace, I-"

"Brother Enoch, I will not repeat myself," the Inquisitor said.

A sob left Sloane's lips and she began to mutter to herself in Spanish. " _Por el Ángel, por favor, te ruego que lo reconsidere. Ángel, que me ayude ... Por favor, ayúdame. Por favor, yo no pretendía hacer daño ... Te amo ... Te quiero, Jace. Te amo, Remy ... Lo siento mucho ... Por favor, perdóname._" She was dragged from the hall, the fight no longer in her blood, and she was deposited in a cell. The Silent Brother did not lock the door, but he shut it in front of her and she sank to the ground in the middle of the cell, sobbing and uttering phrases no one could understand in Spanish.

 _They will deliberate your case more before the Marks are stripped from you,_ Brother Enoch's comforting voice spoke to her in her mind. _A sentence such as this is to be taken with upmost consideration._

"I would rather die than be sent to the mundane world," she whispered. She stared up at Brother Enoch, her vision distorted by her tears, but none the less, stared at him. "If they allow no visitors... I know the Silent Brothers do not make personal calls, but... if I am not allowed visitors, can you tell my family... the Lightwoods... tell them I'm sorry?"

_I will do my best to follow your request._

His best was all she could hope for.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a series of blow before she righted herself. 

"Again," she requested, and Miguel repeated the pattern, and she caught on much quicker this time. Her forearms blocked the three jabs, before she returned it. And ducking out of the way, she turned so that her back was to the ropes, staring at him. 

It was the move she was to be teaching the children in the next few hours, but she wanted to make sure that it could be safe no matter what the technique a child could incorrectly use. He gave her instructions in Spanish, such a comfort to her that she didn't much think about the use of the language anymore. It was normal. It reminded her of home.

She wondered if her daughter spoke Spanish. Or if she was raised with the more traditional languages most of the Nephilim grew with. Latin, Greek, Italian, and perhaps something Slavic. Or Germanic. Shadowhunters weren't taught more common foreign languages until they were older. It was why she had been so horrible with her English before moving to New York City.

"Your head," Miguel warned. 

"Sorry." But Miguel stepped back, giving her a chance to breathe. "You'll do fine tonight. I don't know why you worry so much. They're just punk kids."

"Technique can change intent. Teaching someone wrong can lead to evil thinking." The words were the same her mother had taught her. The perfectionist view on training had passed to her. Miguel just rolled his eyes, and tightened his fists. "Again."

The ring squeaked with their combined weight, cheap crap that needed to be replaced but attendance was too low for that to even be a possibility. Sloan clenched her jaw, her tongue feeling along the teeth to make sure that they were all in place. The last thing she needed was a missing tooth or an injury she couldn't fix with a simple rune. 

She hardly thought of runes sometimes. 

But the squeaking of the ring was so loud that she never noticed the door to the Center open. She just felt the stage meet her body as she went down, and clutched at her rib, before she was rolling onto her knees, lifting herself up.

" _Turn out when you do that. You're giving me a clear path to your shoulder,"_ Miguel ordered. She obeyed immediately, and they resumed, until he was down. Sloan laughed, listening to him groan and run his hand over his jaw.

" _Again?_ " she questioned. He flipped her off, groaning.

"Sloan?" She turned sharply, her hand going to her side instictually, but there was nothing there. No weapons to keep her safe. It was forbidden in exile. But the people standing before her, a small group of those she had once lived with, were not her enemies. At least, she had not parted from them as such. They had not voted. But she stumbled back at the sight of them, her feet tangling with Miguel's, causing her to wobble off balance. But she caught herself, and stared at them. And as her eyes darted around the group, she noticed  _her_. The reason for all of this. 

And Izzy. Izzy was there, surging forward. As soon as she cleared the ring, she pulled a still stunned Sloane into her arms. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

Izzy smelt much the same, with the smokey hint of a demon's death and the hard steel of weapons. But she was missing something. They all were. Sloane stepped back from her, searching Izzy's pale arms. "They're gone?"

"Mundie trick," Izzy shrugged. "Cloaked." Oh, right. Sloane cleared her throat, and glanced towards Jace. She ran her hand across her lip, feeling liquid, and glanced down at the blood on her hand. Damn it. When had she split her lip? When she fell, most likely. "He really missed you." 

"That's a load of shit, and you know it," Sloane said simply. She cast a glance towards Miguel before she slipped between the ropes on the ring and headed for her... husband. Her steps were purposeful. And as she approached him, he straightened slightly, seeming to realize that there was about to be hell to pay. He didn't seem to see the punch coming. Not until it hit his face and he stumbled back into Alec and the warlock, Magnus. 

"Christ, Sloane."

"After everything," Sloane said sharply. "After everything I did to try and help this family, you just sat there. You sat there and did nothing. You could have prevented all of this. It's because of you that I-" Sloane stopped, closing her eyes with a slow shake of her head. "I have a class to teach in a few minutes."

"Sloane, I-"

She turned away. "You can go upstairs, in the apartment. Miguel,  _these are some old friends. Do you mind if I take them upstairs until after class?_ " Miguel rubbed his jaw again, before giving a grunt.

" _Make sure they don't touch anything_."

"Si, they won't. _"_ She hoped. But there was a single reason she wasn't greeting anyone else. Because of the child that was in that bitch's arms. Because of the child that was holding her tightly and silent, staring at her with absolutely no recognition. Sloane glanced away. "Let's go."  _  
_

"Sloane, I tried to reason with them. It was how I got them to not strip you of your runes-"

"I don't want to hear it," Sloane said stiffly. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Sloan learns of their exile and introduces them to her trainer and then grabs her water bottle to take a drink and spit out some blood before she picks up Remy.


	4. Chapter 4

Sloan tells them she's teaching a class at the boxing ring and has been for a few years now. They think she's a high school drop out with mad street skills. Now nearly twenty, she co-owns the ring and teaches the small kids boxing while she lives above the place. Her co-boss/trainer lives with her. Jace jealous, but she assures him that they're just friends. Sloan then tells them they can chill while she finishes up her exercise with Paulo. The entire training session they converse in Spanish rapidly and Jace seems to realize she isn't who she used to be.


	5. Chapter 5

She takes them up to the apartment upstairs and starts to talk about what she's been doing for nearly five years. She tells them she has a class at seven so she can't stay and chat long. As she cleans up, apologizing for the mess, she turns off the tv and stands nervously asking if they want anything to drink. They decline and she takes Remy as she sits beside Jace. The little girl is a lot more grown up and she tears up as she tries to remember her small.

"She's gotten to be so big."

She learns that Alec died, and Robert and Maryse are separated. She also learns that Magnus is hearbroken and that Brother Zachariah is now mortal and with another warlock - Tessa - who is also mortal. At seven, she tells them that they can hang out, they're guests of hers and Paulo won't care. Jace, Clary, Remy, and Izzy stay with Luke and Simon.


End file.
